But With You
by princess-daffodil
Summary: "You're a queen, because you make a great leader. Because you were, in no way, made to be ordinary."... In this moment, she loves him. Because he's restless, and honest, and so far from everything she has to be. (Mash one-shots. Rated T for paranoid safety. ch12: another modern/high-school au)
1. Restless

**a/n: first reign fic. kind of au (and, honestly, i'm not sure where it falls on the timeline. sometime after their first kiss...). because i'm a bash/mary kinda girl.**

It's quiet. He's gone outside because he can't sleep, holding a bottle in his right hand.

He expects to go for a walk. But, he's surprised, because he isn't alone.

"Mary," he says, in a hushed voice.

"Bash," she smiles vaguely. "Is sleeplessness contagious?"

He smiles at her, coming to sit next to her on the grass. He lifts the bottle. Tentatively, she reaches for it, looking through the neck before taking a gulp. Her nose wrinkles, because it is the most pungent wine she's ever tasted.

"That is disgusting."

He chuckles as she passes the bottle back to him. This is vaguely familiar. If he remembered right, it had already happened once.

He's comfortable to let it be quiet. Oddly, she is too.

"What's it like?" She asks.

"What like?"

"Not being responsible for a country."

He laughs, making her smile, in spite of the bitterness seeded in her chest.

"I am so tied to-" she shakes her head. How can she even list the things she finds herself subject to? "But with you-" She glances to him.

For a second, she realizes it- the difference. What Bash wanted, he pursued. Where he wanted to go, he went. What he felt- he _felt_. Deep and rich and passionate.

He tucks her hair behind her ear. "Certain lives are for certain people, Mary." He looks at her, sincere. "You're a queen, because you make a great leader." He skims her jaw. "Because _you_ were, in no way, made to be ordinary."

He's so real. She's desperate- to keep this. In this moment, she loves him. Because he's restless, and honest, and so far from everything she has to be. She leans in. Slowly, at first- but then instantly. In a collision that makes her feel awake. They're crushed together, and her skin warms. And she isn't worried about Court, or Scotland, or alliances, or France, or Francis.

"If you want me to stop you-" his forehead tilts against hers. He talks into her cheek.

She shakes her head, thinking about how this might have been different. For tonight, she'll follow his lead. She'll take what she wants.

Love who she chooses.

**a/n: if you'd read more one shots like this, please follow or review:]**


	2. Waiting

**a/n: modern au. (told in really short snippets) i don't own reign!**

He spotted her out, across the dark room. Spots of glittering light fell on her face. She laughed, and it didn't matter that there was no light.

Sebastian's tie hung loose, drooping around his chest. He hated these events- _dances_. But she would be here. She was here. In a deep purple dress, dark hair swept from her face.

He should wait. No, he shouldn't be doing this at all. But he saw her, and his heart ached in his chest.

His half brother's now ex-girlfriend.

The one person who he couldn't have. But something about her- he'd lost it. For all his loyalty, he fell over himself.

So his brother was dancing with Olivia Whatever-her-name-was, Mary was alone, and he was helpless. That sounded about right.

There eyes met. Just for a second. She made her way through the nearest door. Negotiating a clear path, he followed in slow motion.

* * *

"This is my-" Francis said. "This is Mary."

Bash raised his eyebrows. She was something else. "The new girl."

"Old new girl." She smiled.

That was right- she'd gone to elementary school with them.

Now she was... all grown up.

* * *

"Is he keeping you waiting again?"

"Politics." She rolled her eyes, referring to Francis' role in student government. It kept him rather occupied. And kept her sitting on the stone steps leading up to the glossy school.

Bash tossed his football in her direction. She caught it, and he raised his brows. She was nothing like the other girls here. "Is that what they teach you in Catholic school?"

She laughed, tossing it back in a near perfect spiral. She liked Bash. He talked to a lot of people, but didn't run with any clique. He was a football player, but he didn't sit with the popular people, and he certainly didn't play games.

"It's not right," he said. "Him to keep you waiting like he does."

She shrugged. What could she do?

* * *

"Did you know?"

She referred to Olivia. The supposed ex. The supposed ex who Francis would be taking to co-ed. Who he ultimately be crowned king with. Her heart hurt- but not the way she thought it would.

She wasn't crying. Not quite.

He shook his head, slowly. "It was possible-" there really was nothing he could say. "But I didn't think-" He folded his hands, unsure what to do with them. "Why would he need anyone else- he had you."

She looked up. Sweet, gorgeous, honest Bash. Who'd been there the whole time...

On an impulse, she put herself forward, taking what he wouldn't: she kissed him.

* * *

She stopped outside, waiting for him in front school.

"Mary," he said. All their furtive meetings, and jealousy consumed him. He'd told himself he'd stop. Told himself tonight was the night. Out of some misplaced loyalty to a brother who hadn't bothered for the same.

"Bash."

Hesitantly, he looked at her. She stepped in closer.

"Mary," he said again, meaning to say whatever he'd meant to say. But...

He took her into a kiss. Pulled away to breathe. She pulled back in. Hands in his hair. Hands under her legs. Pushing her up against a brick wall.

"We should-"

"Stop," she whispered, pressing herself to him more desperately. Feelings she couldn't feel for Francis- for propriety or for keeping-face or for whatever it was... she knew what he was going to say. And she couldn't let him rob her of this.

"No," he said, intoxicated by the smell of her perfume and the feel of her legs and the softness of her face. What was he waiting for? What were _they_ waiting for? They could deal with the rest later. "We should get out of here."

**a/n: so traffic was really good for the last story. maybe take a second or two to review? please?**

**major thanks to Carito1988 and Bashful Masher for their killer support!**


	3. Run Away With Me

**a/n: (ty to all of you who have reviewed! xoxo)**

** in a more perfect world, the way things might have gone after their first escape from court (with a little humor splashed in)  
**

"It's stuck."

"What do you mean it's stuck?"

"I mean it's _stuck_."

Mary winced. Well this was awkward. And terrifying. She had about three seconds before the guards burst through the inn's door or charged around to the back window- where she and Bash were attempting their escape. But her dress had snagged in the window frame. They were as good as captured.

But, without hesitation, or warning, Bash grabbed her by the waist and yanked her through the tiny portal. Ripping clean through the dress and under-layers, exposing her slender legs under black tatters of silk, and taking off her left shoe. She stifled a yelp as he heaved her over his shoulder. Did this look ridiculous? Yes. Yes it did. Would they go faster? Yes. Yes they would.

Well this was just bloody brilliant. Mary scowled. She could run a country, elude Catherine De Medici, and squirm her way out of innumerable assassination attempts- only to be foiled by too much fabric. A queen being carried like a sack of potatoes. The English would love this.

"Is this really necessary?" She hissed.

"Oh, shut up." He meant it in the best way, really. The guards would be holding up the stable, and they didn't exactly have time to saddle up anyway.

It was dark out, which worked in their favor. The guards had a target- a target they need to see. He and Mary just needed to get away- it didn't really matter where. So he dodged into the only path he could go that the guards would not: straight to the forest.

"The Blood Wood?" She said when he finally set her down behind a large tree. "Bash, is this safe?"

"Well, to be honest we haven't really decided who is more blood thirsty, the court or the pagans." He looked her over quickly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. "One just happens to be less present at the moment."

"I'm glad you find this-"

A branch lurched. She tensed- drawing closer to him. "Amusing." She quieted. He wrapped an arm around her.

He kept them on the fringes of the forest, just enough for cover. They would only be a few hours. As the guards torches passed down the road, chasing phantoms who had not actually gone that way, he glanced down to her recently exposed legs. She was shaking from more than fright.

"I'll start a fire."

* * *

The fire glowed so small, she thought she would have to sit in it to avoid exposure.

But if it got any bigger, they would undoubtedly be caught. And who knew what then...

As tremors ran through her, he sat closer to her, putting an arm around her. She considered feeling embarrassed. But the warmth won out and she sunk into his grasp. Realizing how exposed she was, she blushed. But then she realized he wasn't very concerned. And she relaxed.

"They could kill us," she said, her voice calm and quiet.

He tilted her jaw toward him."I won't let that happen." Firelight glowing on her skin, her brown eyes open and clear, he looked down at her, with a sincerity that warmed her. "Mary, I promise: I will keep you safe."

On the run, fleeing from the life she had prepared so long for- and she felt less alone now than she had in such a long time...

She remembered their first kiss.

"Bash," she said, softly.

As he turned his face toward her, she pressed a kiss to his lips. And his arms tightened around her.

And she was ready for this- to run with him.

**a/n: there will probably be more installments to this one-shot :) please review!**

**Major thanks to Bashful Masher, Skyfull360, MyGhela, and kqshipalot**


	4. The Little Queen

**a/n: you all have been so lovely! thank you for the reviews! these stories? i really really hope they are as much fun to read as they are to write!**

**au- a mash fairytale**

**(*and, i will still probably add more installments for the last chapter, run away with me. but i was so sad about Toy Soldier and so excited about writing this. so i skipped around. but... enjoy. please?*)**

Once upon a time, in a rich and beautiful land, was born a princess. More lovely than a sunrise, with a heart of kindness and compassion- and all the wisdom and bravery to rival any king- she would be destined to make a great ruler for her people: a true and noble queen.

But fate proved not as kind. Only days after her birth, her father, the King, died. His fragile baby girl, left to care for a nation, as only an infant. But, beautiful as the land was, hers was a kingdom of unrest. So, to keep her safe, her mother sent her to a far away land, to live in the nation of her betrothed. Raised in a convent, until her fifteenth year, she grew more beautiful and more kind with every passing birthday, up until she was released to the household of her betrothed. However, even in this far away land, the little queen could not be safe: left with the throne, her mother became corrupt with power; and her betrothed, though seemingly kindly, proved to be a jealous, cruel lover- and, in a fit of envy, he locked the little queen in a tower, keeping her from all other contact. Even the prince's mother, a wicked sorceress, conspired against the little queen; she grew jealous of her son's averted affections- and so she cast a spell upon the tower: if the little queen attempted to leave her prison, she would surely parish. But such a spirit is not so easily contained...

Her name was Mary- Queen of Scots.

* * *

"You cannot keep me here forever."

The little queen kept her jaw tilted up. Though he may have broken many another girl, Mary retained her fire.

"I do not want to."

As he reached for her face, she winced as though he struck her.

"But I will if I have to."

Closing the door behind him, in the lovely prison cell, he left her to her anger and her grief.

* * *

There was, however, in this land, a hero. Brave and honest, though poor he might have been, in the same castle that held the lovely Mary prisoner, there lived a boy: the prince's elder half-brother.

His name was Sebastian.

Handsome and kind, he pitied the beautiful young queen imprisoned in the castle- as he knew his brother's cruelty, love him though he did; and Sebastian also knew the heart of the young queen was not for captivity. For, in her short time of freedom in the castle, the poor but handsome young man had fallen in love with her.

Alas! Now he could only gaze at her through the window of her cell!

But, perhaps not. He vowed to himself, in his heart, that he would help free the young maiden, no matter the cost.

So, one night, after all had gone to sleep, he began to climb the long and winding staircase to console the captive queen in her loneliness. And he bribed the queen's jailer, with what little he had saved, claiming he only meant to ease her depression with friendly company- and, if her mood brightened, Prince Francis would be pleased. So, on the condition that he kept nothing on his person, the guard turned away allowed the young Sebastian to pass.

"Mary," he said, finding her standing in the tower's lone window.

"Sebastian," she breathed his name, elated for his company, for he had been kind to her in her days of freedom here.

Deeply disturbed by her condition, distressed by her distress, he strided toward her, to wipe the single tear falling down her paled cheek.

"Oh, Sebastian." She held his hand against her face, starved, and thankful, for the warm, kind touch. "I am so glad to see you."

She was unwell: withering daily in her confinement.

Overcome, he embraced her, holding her for several tender moments before letting her go.

For hours, through the night, they delved into each others company- until the morning sun, breaking from the horizon, when they were forced to part.

"I must go," he said, pale light peeking through the window.

"Wait, Bash," she reached for his hand before he could slip through the door. "Please, will I see you again?"

"When the sun sets, and the moon hangs in the middle of the sky, I will return."

* * *

That day, when the Prince came to check on her, the young queen was tired, but far less sullen.

"My beauty," he said. "You are looking well today."

"Only happy to see you, your grace."

And the prince grinned- he would win her yet.

"But, my beauty," he said. "You look tired as well,"

She looked to her bed, a humble cot on the side of the room, and, being not only beautiful but cunning as well, she thought quickly, a plan formulating within her.

"My prince, I cannot sleep- for my bed is too cold."

"Very well, my beauty. You will have more blankets."

And he left and within the hour more blankets arrived to her room.

* * *

That night, when the sun had set and the moon hung in the middle of the sky, Sebastian returned, this time bribing the guard with a bracelet, from his mother. Again, the guard allowed him to pass, on the condition that he kept nothing on his person.

And again she turned from the window, and he wiped the single tear from her cheek.

"Oh Bash," she sighed. "I am dying up here."

And so this night, he held her for a few moments longer.

And they indulged in each others company, until the morning sun, breaking from the horizon, when they were forced to part.

"Will I see you again?" The young queen Mary asked.

And the handsome Bash replied: "When the sun sets, and the moon hangs in the middle of the sky, I will return."

* * *

The next morning, when the prince came to check on the little queen, she seemed in a brighter mood still, though even more tired than before.

"My beauty," he said, watching her carefully. "You are looking well today."

"Only delighted to see you, your grace."

Today he only looked on her with a faint, suspicious smile.

"But, my beauty," he said. "You look tired as well."

She gestured to her bed.

"My prince, I cannot sleep- for my sheets are too rough."

"Very well, my beauty. You will have softer sheets."

And he left and within the hour more sheets arrived to her room.

* * *

That night, when the sun had set and the moon hung in the middle of the sky, Sebastian returned, this time bribing the guard with an abundance of wine. Again, the guard allowed him to pass, on the condition that he kept nothing on his person.

And again she turned from the window, and he wiped the single tear from her cheek.

"Oh Sebastian," she sighed. And he was grieved, for he saw that she did not have long, were she to be locked up here, in this place.

And so this night, he held her for a few moments longer- and longer and longer, so that she remained in his embrace, growing more fond of him by the hour, til dawn appeared, until the morning sun, breaking from the horizon, when they were forced to part.

"Bash," The young queen Mary said as he turned bitterly to leave. "I _must_ see you again."

But his heart ached, low and heavy in his sturdy chest. "Oh Mary," he said, burdened by grief and guilt and despair. "I am a poor bastard- and I have nothing left to bribe the jailer."

He had planned to tell her that he would come back only when he could free her from her imprisonment- but it was then that she, the clever young queen, revealed her own plans for escape.

To which the handsome Bash eagerly replied: "When the sun sets, and the moon hangs in the middle of the sky, I will return for you."

* * *

The next morning, when the prince came to check on the little queen, she seemed in a brighter mood _even still_, though _even more_ tired than the previous days. And in his jealousy, suspicion rose within him, and he lashed out at the young queen.

"My beauty," he hissed, grabbing and clutching her wrist in a vice-like grip. "You are looking rather well today."

"Only elated to see you, your grace." She turned her face, ignoring the pain of his threatening clutch.

"But, my beauty," he hissed, gripping tighter as she struggled away. "You look tired as well. Who_ has_ been keeping you up?"

"No one your grace," the queen settled the trembling in her voice, gesturing to the bed once more. "Only that I cannot sleep, for my pillow is too hard."

"Very well, my beauty." The prince through off her hand, his suspicions still aroused. "You will have your pillows- and then I'll have no more of your games."

Little did he know, this was the last game she need play.

And he left and within the hour more pillows arrived to her room.

* * *

That night, when the sun had set and the moon hung in the middle of the sky, Sebastian returned, but not to her cell. No, this night, he waited at her window. The beautiful, clever queen needed a guide, someone to lead her safely back to her own land. For she had used the blankets, the sheets, and the cases of the pillows, to tie together a rope.

Carefully tossing the knotted fabric from the window, the daring young maiden proceeded to lower herself from her cold cell, to the ground bellow. And, in the final drop, her strong and handsome comforter was there to catch her.

It all had seemed but too simple- until the queen took faint.

"Mary. _Mary_," Sebastian said, catching the collapsing figure in his arms. For the prince's mother, the sorceress- the curse she placed on the tower could not be eluded.

"Bash," she said, catching herself on his shoulders. She shook her head, as though she did not understand, she reached for his face.

"Mary," He lifted her, stroked her lovely face. But it was too late- she was already fading, and so quickly gone!

Instantaneously, he felt his heart rupture, shattering like ice in his chest. That he would have anticipated the treachery of the sorceress; that he would not have let her be locked in that tower! That he would have told her...

His face tilted to her. A single tear dropped from his eyes, landing on her cheek. All was lost...

"Sebastian,"

He jolted from his state of grief. She was awake- as in that single drop, there contained the most potent combatant to darkness that there could ever be: true love.

Without hesitation, he kissed her, his beloved queen. And, without shame or remorse, but rather with all the love in her overflowing heart, she kissed him in return.

And he guided her safely from the castle, back to her home land, where the two successfully defeated her power-corrupted mother and regained the country that had been so rightfully hers- but that is a tale for another time.

And they both lived happily ever after.


	5. Find a Way

**a/n: another update!**

**this is not a song fic per say. but it has been inspired while listening to find a way by safetysuit. (hence the title) omg. so cute. listen to it.**

"It's so lovely," she said. The chill from outside drew soft rosy blush on her cheeks. "This way."

He was walking her back to her room. She looked up at him from beneath a dark veil of thick eyelashes, stirring him up, in his heart. Every time he looked at her, he just wanted to know about her.

"I've never felt so," she spoke softly, her face tilted to the side. "Like a person." Though their courtship began suddenly, she couldn't deny this. The fluttering in her chest, the excitement, the deep-rooted affection swelling in her when she looked at him. The way he just understood...

"I'm glad," he said, smiling, but warily. He loved her. And the way she was today... it would seem she was coming to love him too. But these things- they were so fragile. And it was her fire and her depth and her kindness... he didn't want to break it. Because that would mean losing it.

So he settled for kissing her hand and straining out a gentle "Goodnight."

"Yes, right." She said, her smile dropping, but only from her eyes. "Goodnight, Sebastian."

He was ready to let her go, to watch her walk into her room, to observe propriety in favor of safety. No need to rush...

But then-

"Mary," he said. He caught her hand. Turned her back to him.

Hungrily, he pressed his lips against hers. And she responded, tangling his hair in her fingers, her soft lips pulling at his, drawing him in.

"Stay," she said, without thinking, as he picked her up around the waist, so that her forehead tilted down to his.

* * *

"Mary Stuart," he said as she circled her fingers over his chest. "I will find a way to make you happy. I promise you."

"Bash," she said, speaking quietly, because she was afraid of breaking it. She laid herself over him. "You already have."

**a/n: i want them to be together so bad omg. please review darlings! please. i need validation from my fellow mashers.**


	6. Run Away With Me p2

**a/n: ****hello loves;) a quick anecdote of epiphany for my mashers- because y'all will understand.  
**

**science teacher: what makes a ship sink?  
**

**student we _thought_ was really dumb: when the other ship has a cannon.**

**me: (*eyes widen*)**

**me:(*mouth drops open*)**

**me: (**OMFG**)**

**me: WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?**

** and now, part two of run away with me.**

Mary slept poorly along the edge of the forest- and Bash not at all. And not just because he was holding a beautiful girl with the softest lips... and legs...

Control the thoughts control the thoughts control the thoughts.

It was only a kiss.

They were still in danger. And the goal was to keep her safe... the goal would always be to keep her safe.

"Time to rise your highness," he said as a tangerine sun peeked over the horizon. He jostled her gently. She roused- but only enough to nuzzle her face between his neck and shoulder- in a way that left his skin feeling particularly warm. So, rather gracelessly, he hoisted her up over his shoulder again, and she woke with a yelp.

"No." She said, in a flat, alert voice, gaining her bearings.

"Well I can't very well ask you to walk." He smirked. He gave a small hop, like he meant to resettle her weight. He glanced cheekily over his shoulder to see her indignant blush peeking through her long dark hair.

"No." She said. "Absolutely not. Not in the light of day."

He plopped her down without prejudice, snickering to himself at her indignant scowl.

"I am perfectly capable-"

"I know," he said, taking her hand in his. "But you are without a shoe."

He looked down to see her single bare foot.

All that they'd gone through, and he was worried about her walking through the wet grass. She smiled at the sweetness of the gesture. And she could not describe the fondness that swelled within her at that moment.

So she stood on the tips of her toes, and she kissed him.

* * *

There plan was to escape. He'd need refuge far away- say, like, out of the country maybe? And she was a queen of a country far enough for the both of them.

But first, they needed to get her dressed. And shoe-d. And they should probably get some proper sleep, as the nearest port- that would (quietly)transport fleeing royals and reluctant usurpers- was still miles away. And for those things, they would need to find a town. And he knew of just the right one, diverged from the road, with a small inn.

"This town," she said, "We'll be safe there?"

"It's more of a village," he said. "They're humble people- not the kind who would recognize nobility... or bastards."

"Are we going to cause them trouble?"

"Only if the guard haven't already harassed them."

Mary winced.

He nudged her chin up. "Soon we'll be long gone," he said. "And you can forget about this mess."

* * *

"I think they thought I was a harlot."

She side glanced at Bash, before laughing at herself. She laughed so hard she snorted- but cute, and endearing, not like a pig. And he wondered how anyone could _not_ fall in love with her. The woman who sold her the dress, a humble teal garment, like the other villagers might wear, had nearly fallen over herself when the pair stepped in, Mary's legs and one foot all covered in dirt. And then when they'd asked for one room, it seemed like she might have fainted. He laughed with her.

They sat in the dark corner of the pub of the inn where they planned to stay- because after all this, they needed a drink. And Mary was enchanted by the simplicity here- a little bit jealous of it. How happy everyone in this small village seemed. And she longed a little bit, for what they had. And Bash, he fit right in here.

He smiled at her, looked out to where the moon hung in the velvet sky.

"Alright, your grace, I believe you've had plenty for one night."

"Oh but look Bash! They're dancing." She hiccuped, making herself giggle all the more. "One dance. Please? Before we go?"

He looked out to where the common people danced, nothing like they did at court. If she weren't entirely sauced, she might have stuck out like like a diamond in a bag of potatoes. But it could be amusing... "Alright. _One_. Then off to bed."

He gestured for her to go to the floor on her own. But, she grabbed him by the arm. He should have known to never underestimate the strength of drunk people.

He found her compressed against his chest, attempting to mimic the jaunty movements of the pub crowd surrounding them. She laughed every time she stumbled. And, though he wasn't much for dance, he would do it for her. Until the song ended and she crashed into him one last time. As the giggles spilled up from her lively rosy lips, he kissed her, here, in public, with unexpected fervor. And she wrapped her arms over his neck and he thought about what it would be like if they were both normal people.

* * *

She stumbled to their room, his arm holding her up, under the shoulders by the ribs. Clumsily, he guided her through the door into the sweet darkness of the inn.

Until she tripped, dragging him down with her, so that he hovered over her on the bed. At first she giggled, until her face took on a happy seriousness as she reached for his face, tracing her hand down his jaw.

And she kissed him- with more desperation and desire and passion than she knew she had. His lips held their own against hers- his tongue tracing her lower lip, pulling at her mouth- and his body lurched forward. He kissed at her jaw, her throat, her chest.

"I," he tensed, breathing heavily. "I don't want you to regret this." He could stop. He could stop if he had to.

She took her face in his hands.

"The only thing I regret," she said, feeling more sober now than she had before their escape. "Is that you think it would be possible for me to regret you."

So he collided back to her.


	7. Catching Trains

**a/n: been in writing mode the last week. totally on a role here.**

**modern au, episodic plot (because chronological order is for squares:p)**

"Mary!" If he let her go now, he'd lose her.

So he ran, dodging through the scattered crowd. Time warped around him- moving too fast and too slow all at the same time. Don't be too late. Just... please don't be too late.

He searched through the sea of nameless persons about to board the train. But he couldn't find her.

* * *

"It's okay" she said, glancing to him, then back to her rain-boots. She exhaled, leaving a patch of fog on the clean glass of his beaten-down blue pick-up. Water drained from the sky in thick, grey sheets.

"It's okay." He repeated. He lied.

That sweltered in the cold silence, before he pulled to a stop in front of the station.

* * *

"It really isn't all that bad," she said, thinking better of everything she'd just said.

"You don't need to tell me," Bash frowned. "He's my brother."

"I know," she said, looking down at her palms, empty. "I _know_."

He looked at her, with patient blue-green eyes, giving her permission to go on or stop or fumble around in between.

"I shouldn't be complaining to you." It wasn't appropriate. Especially when they would probably get back together- her and Francis. She was taking a train to go see him tomorrow morning. This happened all the time. And she was glad Bash was the kind of person who could stay on good terms. Where other people would be awkward.

He was one in a one and a million and two that way.

He glanced at her, and then away, quickly. Because he shouldn't be looking at her.

"If you need to talk..."

* * *

"Mary," He said.

God. She was beautiful. And she just... geez. Francis didn't even know- didn't even know how good he had it. And now, she was coming to his house, because it was closer to the train station. And he was going to drive her there. So she could run to someone who didn't know her worth.

"Bash," she said. She stood in the frame of his doorway, dark hair coated in dewy rain drops. She kept her smile up. But a bluish tinge hugged her voice.

"Will you come inside?"

* * *

Love was a peculiar thing.

In fact it sucked.

That's what he thought as he watched her pour the dregs of her coffee down the sink.

"And he's so arrogant sometimes I just-" she shook her head, pushing up the sleeves of her slouchy forest green shirt. "He makes me feel like I'm crazy or like-"

"Like he can't imagine how you could be so wrong."

Yes. That was it exactly.

Like no matter how hard she tried- or didn't try, or tried to try- like there was something inadequate about her.

* * *

"These are beautiful."

She noted the pictures scattered on the coffee table, as he handed her a hot blue cup, a small chip in the handle, filled with her coffee, just the way she liked it: too much creamer and too much sugar and a very small part coffee.

Francis still handed her cups of black- so that she would grimace swallowing it down, until there was room for the proper goodies. Bash- he knew how important it was to be sweet.

She selected a photo of Bash playing with his cousin's daughter, a baby girl of about six months. She treasured the sunshine candid look of it- he had no idea it was being taken, but had this smile- the way things should be.

"Just like you." He grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes. "You're cheeky."

He shrugged. He'd spent his whole life being too honest.

* * *

They slammed into each other.

A mutual collison.

He could still feel the dampness of the tears on her face.

* * *

"...I'm here for you."

And he meant it in so many ways. He adored her, for so long.

Looking at him, her lip quivered. Tears broke down her eyes- slowly. Not violent, in the way most brokenhearted would.

He looked at her for a moment- before putting an arm around her. He pressed his cheek to her forehead.

She sighed. Did people always fall out of love this way? Did it always hurt this much, to not feel anything at all? Francis hadn't loved her in a long time.

And, like lightening hitting the earth, in one glowing, electrified shock- she looked up to the man looking down at her, wondering what it would be like to be touched by someone who cared.

He was inches from her. She was inches from him. Just this once just this once just this once.

* * *

"I'm sorry." He lied.

Great. He couldn't even calculate the damage he'd just done.

"You're going to be late for your train."

Blush filled her cheeks. An ache blossomed in her chest.

"Right." She said, picking up her purse.

* * *

Sitting in his car he clutched the steering wheel, watching her walk up the stone steps, no umbrella, just braving the room. And when the doors swallowed her up he stayed, planted.

Let her go.

He took his foot off the break.

But only for a second, before hurling into park, right against a red curb.

* * *

He turned, bewildered, searching. But she wasn't there.

"Bash,"

He turned.

And there she was. Waiting for him. No, running toward him.

He caught her, clutching her to himself. They could fix it later. For now, they'd love.

**a/n: please review darlings!**


	8. Shelter

**a/n: au. where the dauphin just doesn't come up. because, for once, it would be nice to see something where bash _doesn't_ have to compete with francis. that's right: he does not exist here. enjoy.**

Along the edge of a wood, as the sun teetered along the rim of the earth, in a slice of silver light cutting through the land, she rode- and rode and rode and rode- until a figure emerged in the distance, and she let her horse slow.

"Help me," the girl said. "Please,"

And then she fell into the arms of a stranger.

* * *

Sebastian De Poitiers confined himself to a simple existence. When his mother died, he withdrew, away from the place where he grew up, here, to a tiny cottage at the edge of the forest. The place comforted him in his youth- he sought after the same now. But its solitude only numbed his grief.

Still, he attached himself to the isolation. At the very least, it was peaceful.

He seldom received visitors- and never strangers.

So when this stunning, but battered, young lady collapsed from her horse, he was stunned. Without thinking, he caught her. He glanced from the girl to her onyx horse. The exhausted animal panted, calm and alert. His eyes turned back to her.

Well what was he supposed to do with her?

... she was beautiful though. Rich dark hair and full berry lips and a thick blind of black eyelashes.

He couldn't very well drop her back into the grass. He sighed.

Hoisting her up, the way men did their brides, he carried her toward his home.

* * *

Where... am I?

She woke with a panic. Alarmed, she attempted to sit up. She had no idea where she was- not that it mattered. She was far too weak to run or defend herself or even to plead they spare her.

"You're awake,"

A pleasing voice eased over her. A boy opened the door, a pile of fire wood in his arms.

The boy- the one she'd seen. She vaguely sculpted a memory.

"Your horse is in the stable. I hope you don't mind,"

She shook her head. Relief spread through her. She leaned her head back, calmed by the simple fact that this was not her lady's house. Whoever he was, he could not do worse to her than what she ran from.

He handed her a hot cup of steaming liquid.

"Drink this,"

Yes. A pleasant voice- but, uncomfortable? Disrupted.

Without thought, parched, she gulped a mouthful of the fluid. Tea.

"Thank you," she said, still hoarse. For the first time, she looked- really looked- at the man who had taken her in. He was... handsome. "I'm so sorry. To impose,"

"It's," he wedged a log in the furnace. The room was cold- he'd have to fix that for her- but slowly taking to the fire he tended. "I'm unaccustomed to visitors- strangers," he stood up.

Really, she was lovely. Had she been less beautiful or less helpless, he might have tried to wake her earlier. "What were you running from?"

Her face dropped to her tea cup.

"Not that it matters. It's-" he saw the sadness in her, and felt compassion for her. "You can stay, here."

"No, I'd-" it would be better if she didn't. The trouble she might bring down on this stranger, who was being so kind to her, steered her thoughts.

"It's alright," he gestured to the cross hanging above his door. Besides, she was in no state to get up from the bed, much less get back on her horse. "It's-" he felt... compelled to help her. "I'm Sebastian."

Her eyes found his. "I'm Mary." She breathed. And, if he was going to be so kind to her, he deserved to know. "And my lady has accused me of adultery."

* * *

He didn't ask if it was true- didn't even blink.

"There are worse things."

"But it isn't true." She said softly.

"So why are you running?"

"Because, my lady is evil."

He chuckled, and a hint of a smile emerged on her face, in spite of the inappropriateness of it.

* * *

How long had she been running?

Days.

Where was she coming from?

The house of Valois.

Did she need any thing?

No- not anything more than he had given her. He was already being so generous.

He hardly called soup and some blankets generous.

"Thank you." She said.

He shrugged. "I couldn't very well leave you there- after you swooned."

She blushed.

"Besides," he gestured to the cross hanging over his door again.

"You're a minister?"

He chuckled. "Not exactly."

After a slight pause, curiosity drove her to speak.

"Who are you?" She shook her head. He spoke so articulately- and he was so handsome and so kind. She couldn't imagine him wanting to be alone as he was. And he had to be alone. The house was so small, there couldn't possibly be anyone else.

"Not who you'd think." His eyes found hers, and he felt it.

He looked at her, this girl. And something stirred in him. And, for the first time in a very long time, he was happy not to be alone.

**a/n: if you liked it, there will be more installments:)**

**special thanks to: iloverob32 kqshipalot Carito1988. and SUPER THANKS to chrisrose and Bashful Masher S2 so much love guys. so much love.**


	9. Shelter p2

**a/n: part two of shelter:)**

It had been several days since she arrived on his land. And, it would seem, he did nothing but care for her. He fed her, gave her plenty of tea and the best water she had ever tasted, and he made sure the room was warm and kept her in blankets. It would start snowing soon- and she couldn't be more thankful that she had happened on him of all people.

But every time she tried to express her gratitude he would only gesture to the wooden cross above his door, telling her it was their duty, as Christians to love one another.

"You'd be surprised," she said.

He chuckled at that, a little bitterly. "The sincere among us, do what we can anyway."

And she was glad that she believed him, because he was so patient and so kind and so humble...

Now, after these several days,she was well enough to rise- and she wished that she were not. But she could not stay. If her lady's men found her... he would suffer for aiding her. So, when he went out to collect wood for the furnace, she got up from the bed, went over to the window. As she watched him, a smile blossomed on her face. Until he looked up, to see her there. He grinned at her, and she looked away.

"You're up," he said as he opened the door, but, as the realization settled on him, his smile wavered.

"Yes," she said. "And I will be out of your way within the hour."

"But- there is a storm about to set in," he blurted out . It was true. But really, he would have said anything to make her stay. "Perhaps you should wait, a bit longer."

She looked at him carefully, her handsome stranger. And, all too ready to agree with him, she nodded.

* * *

"Where were you going, when you found me?"

He was right- a storm thundered outside.

So he set to ask her more questions. It was something of a game they played when they ate. He would as her something, and she would answer and then ask him something too. He knew that she hated cabbage, her horse's name was Mouse, and she was seventeen. And now she knew that he went by Bash, he was almost twenty, and his favorite color was green.

This was the first serious question he had asked her since the day he took her in.

"I don't know," she said. She had been traveling for days- the idea of a destination only meant someplace where her lady's guard would not be trampling up behind her. "I suppose- there is a city, just north of here. The land is under, is it the-"

"The De Poitiers." He said, nodding.

"You know it?"

He nodded again, more sullen.

"Is it a large city?" She sat up straighter. "Could I hide there?"

"It's big enough." He shrugged. "Why did your lady accuse you?"

"It's my turn."

"You took your turn when you asked if it was a large enough city to hide in." He gave her a smile, more somber than usual.

She scowled, but, fair was fair.

"Her name is Lola. She's a noble woman, and she hasn't always been this way," Mary said, tenderly, as the subjected ached in the back of her chest. "We were dear friends once. I was only a servant- but she liked me so well... that she asked me to be one of her ladies. My actual station didn't change much, but my duties did. We _were_ friends." She paused, breathed. "But, when she and her husband, Julian, lost their first baby, in childbirth, she was different. And I couldn't blame her. Could anyone, really?" She shrugged very small, concentrating very hard on dissolving the lump in her throat. "But, she became- so cold. So that, when her husband asked me, if she had confided anything to me, anything that might help him to help her... she saw us, and she assumed... but it was _nothing_. He loves her far too much- as did I. But she did not talk to him. Only to one of her guard, who had compassion enough to warn me, to give me a head start."

"And now this guard is hunting you?" His brow furrowed fiercely at this.

Mary shook her head. "He is loyal to her- I cannot begrudge him that."

Anger heated within him. _Nobles_. The lot of them. The irony of the title.

"She was my friend." A wash of tears filled her eyes, but she would not cry. His face softened; he took her hand. And, again, she was grateful that it was him.

"And you," she said, softly, less concerned with the game than with changing the subject. "Where are you from, Bash?"

She had been so honest with him. He owed her the same.

* * *

When he had been young, he lived a life of privilege- with privileged rights and privileged friends. Reckless and indulgent, he lived as careless as he pleased- and they went to mass and confessed and assumed all was well.

Until he met a girl, a peasant, in the city. Her name was Rowan, and she was so different from his _noble_ friends. She was honest, and brave, and gentle. But she was a pagan.

When his friends, the _nobility_, found out, they exiled her. And by the time he found out, she was long gone, deep in the woods, already consumed by exposure.

He despised them- his _friends_. How could they? They were selfish, wicked, despicable people. They used their power to keep the weak and the small at their mercy, not to help those they claimed to protect. And he- how could he have been like them? Now that he saw them for what they were?

And then his mother took ill. When she passed, it was already more than he could bare.

All the land and title and power passed to him. But he didn't want any of it.

He assigned a steward to manage his affairs, and came here- where there were no games, no hypocrisies.

* * *

A pause broke the sound. He had held her hand this whole time, and, now, she clasped her other hand around his, encapsulating his palm in both of hers.

"My name is Sebastian De Poitiers. And the city you would flee toward, is mine."

**a/n****: hope this clears some things up. there will be more of this to come:)**

**and, i know mary is fleeing from the house of valois but then lola is the noble woman so that doesn't make sense and blah blah blah. i'm appropriating. it's au. also, i have nothing against lola. her circumstance simply inspired a plausible way to shape a vendetta.**

**thanks for reading. please review! :)**


	10. Shelter p3

**a/n: finals guys. sorry for the absence!**

**part three of shelter**

She reached for his downtrodden countenance.

"Bash," she said. "You're nothing like them."

He caught her hand while it traced down his jaw, held it there.

"You're different."

He was- different from anyone she'd ever encountered.

She looked at him. He looked at her. Their eyes meeting- like light, finally realizing the dark, and winning out. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned toward her, and she did not back away. His nose brushing hers, her eyes on his mouth, their breathing intertwining, he waited for a moment. And he kissed her.

* * *

"Whatever is on its way," he said, holding her. "I promise: I will protect you."

There would be no denying it now- he wanted her to stay. In these days, he'd fallen for her. Because he saw in her what he wanted to see in himself- gentleness, strength, tenderness, sincerity, goodness- real, honest goodness- and the ability to believe the same of others. He wanted to believe those things existed in people...

"I cannot ask for that," she said. The firm, steady beat of his heart comforted her.

"Mary," he lifted her face to look at him.

He didn't want her to go.

"I can keep you safe." He smoothed the hair from her face. "I have the resources. If I take you back-"

"Bash," she said, shaking her head. "I can't ask you to go back. That isn't the life-"

He planted another kiss on her lips, tenderly quieting her.

"I _left_ because I felt alone, so I wanted to _be_ alone. But with you," he cupped her cheek in his hand. "I don't." She tilted deeper into his palm. "So I will, for you." He kissed her forehead.

* * *

They rode along a small path, parted from the main road. But, it was not enough- as in the distance, a vague mass gained on them.

"My lady has sent her guard," Mary whispered, slowing her horse. Now she would be the death of them both. They would never out run them. She gazed desperately to her kind protector, sorry for the ruin she'd brought on him.

But, he pulled out his sword. He could not lose her now- because, though he'd nursed her back to health, it was she who brought him back to life.

He edged out in front of her, ready to meet them.

The guard stumbled to a halt, having expected a chase.

"Our lady demands we return with the girl," One of the guard said; he pointed toward Mary.

"Your lady is mistaken," Bash said. He edged out farther ahead, shielding her from the men's incredulous gaze. "This lady is my wife." He glanced back to Mary, just long enough to see blush color her cheeks.

"Aye, sir, and by what authority-"

"Tell your lady that this girl is under the protection of the House of De Poitiers."

* * *

"Forgive me," he said as they ambled in the direction of his home- his proper home. "For improvising."

"It's all right," she said, gazing over to him. "I will never be able to thank you for-"

"Marry me," he said, like a realization animating on his lips. He pulled his horse to a stop. He climbed off his horse, coming to stand next to her. "If you have come to love me, as I have come to love you, then stay with me, and I will protect you all your days."

She did. She loved him more than she could understand.

"Yes." She nodded. Her heart fluttered in her chest. "Sebastian, yes."

For a second, he beamed- happier than he had been, than he thought he could ever be again, since he walked away from who he was. He placed his hands on her waist, spinning her into the folds of his arms, where he kissed her.

* * *

And the town was stunned when he returned- and with a strange young woman no less. But, he came back to his rightful place, welcomed by the people. With the help of his young bride, he ruled kindly, justly. He took his title back with purpose: to right the wrongs of those before him.

He was a beloved leader. And the two lived happily, never forgetting the refugee they found in each other.

**a/n: cheesy and convenient ending? yeah yeah yeah. whatever. i need me some happily ever after.**


	11. Run Away With Me p3

**a/n: part three of run away with me**

"Marry me, Mary- Queen of Scots," he said, softly in her ear. He'd been smiling to himself, over the way she murmured in her sleep- every word nonsense, but nothing he couldn't understand.

It was more a wish than a question. He expected her to be asleep.

* * *

She woke up gathered against his chest, the steady sound of his heart in her ear, against her cheek. Her hands rested against his ribs, which expanded and contracted with his breathing. His arms wrapped her up in a thick layer of tender affection.

On the brink of as much trouble as she'd ever been, and she'd never felt so safe.

Wisps of pale sunrise light weaved through the curtains. Ever inch of her skin felt warm and awake and alive.

"Marry me, Mary- Queen of Scots."

The murmur caressed her, in the most pleasant way.

"Yes," she said. She said it the way one says that the sky is blue or water is wet. She did not think about it: it was just the answer.

"Mary?" His brow furrowed, and, for a moment, he was certain she was talking in her sleep.

"My only condition is now," she said, her hands creeping up his torso, settling just below his shoulders. "While I can make my own choice."

He caught her hands. There would be repercussions for this- huge ones. He'd suffer them: but, now, he didn't know if he could ask such a thing of her.

"For all they know, I'm already gone." She said. And they would be right.

"Mary-" he sighed.

But before he could speak, she propped herself up, urging a kiss against his mouth.

"Please," she said. "Just- please..."

* * *

They married in the smallest church either had ever seen, right there in the little village. She had been a vision- in blush colored lace, her hair swept up. No one there but the minister- who assumed they were just hasty young people, simply eager to be together.

They hid there for a few days time, before boarding a vessel that quickly and quietly transported the two to the New World- as she had formulated a plan. She wrote a letter to her brother James, asking him to rule in her stead. She trusted him, protestant though he might have been, to look out for her people's welfare, maybe even better than she ever could. Because, she was made to listen to her heart, and her heart was telling her that this was right. So, she informed her half brother that these were to be her last words.

And, in a way, it was true. They were her last as Mary- Queen of Scots.

Now, she started a new life, as Mary De Poitiers.

"Do you see it?" He said, pointing to a nearing distance.

She clustered herself against Bash. Yes, she could see it clearly: just a girl, who married a boy, just for love.

**a/n: (*sigh*) it could never ever happen this way, i know. but, a girl can dream.**


	12. It Should Have Been

**a/n: aggg. another absence. the well is dry/ the brain is scorched.**

**but thank you for all the lovely reviews!**

**as per amber shine's request, another (different- similar, but more elaborate/more love-triangley) modern au;) (high school, again) enjoy.**

"We're together," Kenna said. She bore a not-entirely-happy smile. She did look happy. Just not the kind of happy a girl should look when she is supposed to be announcing her current relationship.

"That's-" Mary glanced from Kenna, to Bash. Their eyes hooked for a second, and she wondered... She swallowed, nodding with a smile vaguely similar to Kenna's. "That's wonderful." She looked to Francis, junior class president, already campaigning for senior class president: her boyfriend. He was leading a lunch time activity. With the _lovely_ senator _Olivia_, ineptly throwing whipped cream at him while giggling like a parrot.

"Thank you," Kenna said, with a relieved sigh. She hugged Mary, already turning in the direction of the quad. "I've got to go tell Lola and Greer."

And like that, they were alone.

Mary kneaded her well loved copy of _The Fault in Our Stars_ in her hands.

"I- ship you two," she said. But the sensation that she had somehow been cheated throbbed in the back of her chest.

"You ship us?" A smile finally nudging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes. And I wish you every happiness."

He rolled his eyes. Kenna was... alright. More alright than he had expected her to be. She was beautiful. She could be decent, and kind, and funny. Maybe not the sharpest crayon in the box- but he had grown to like her alright.

But, then, there was Mary...

And there would be no replacing her.

"So, I assume you two are going to Co-ed?"

* * *

He hadn't asked her yet. They would certainly be going. And she didn't need elaborate shows of flowers or painted billboards or the request spelled out in cupcakes- she wasn't that way. But it would be nice to be able to confirm plans. It _was_ only two weeks away...

So she waited, skin coated in dried sweat, hair in a bun on top of her head. Cheer practice ran long that day- and he was still taking longer to get out than her. What could they possibly be doing in ASB for the last three-and-a-half hours? But she didn't mind being supportive.

He was her childhood crush- until she went to Our Lady of Deliverance.

"Francis!" She said, a smile breaking on her face as he came through the door of Mr. Valois's classroom. The lattice pattern of the iron bench left reddish indents on the back of her legs.

"Mary," he said, glancing up from his Student Body Affairs binder.

She frowned, just slightly, as he kept walking in the direction of their lockers.

"Francis, I was hoping today we could-" she dodged a beaten grey trash can trying to keep pace with him. "About the winter formal? It's..."

"Well of course we're going." He said, still rifling through papers. "We're a sure bet for king and queen."

"Yes but-"

"But I'm sure you can work out the details." He half kissed her cheek. "I'm- busy. And you like that sort of thing." He dipped left, down the next hallway.

"Right but-"

"But I trust you," he said, over his shoulder, with a smile. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow."

Well, apparently she would be walking home today.

* * *

At first, he'd known Kenna as one of Mary's friends. He tolerated her.

Then, she was transferred into the period of chemistry he happened to TA for.

And he decided she was an absolute moron. When Mr. Nostradamus referred her to him for extra tutoring help, he considered the many lethal combinations he could conjure for himself, using the chemicals in the lab cabinet.

_"I know you think I'm the stupidest girl at French Prep."_

_"Well I can't say that. I don't know every girl at French Prep."_

But, when you spend so many hours with someone, it becomes difficult to despise them.

"So I was thinking," she said, meeting him after her practice and his conditioning. "Do you like this color?" She pointed to a hot fuschia fitted dress on her iPhone. "Or this one?" She flicked the screen to a fluffy light blue gown.

He smiled at her a little. Honestly, he didn't really care. But, he _did_ want her to be happy. He wanted to want her to be happy. Her face glowed with a warm excitement that made him think this might not be so terrible after all.

"The pink," he took her hand in his. "It suits you."

She grinned, kissing his cheek.

"Alright. Then," she walked in a half-circle around him, a little awkwardly. "I'm- going to go shopping. And, I'll, see you tomorrow."

"Right." Right.

* * *

He drove his battered Ford around the back of the school. Where he saw her walking home with a duffel and a backpack, still in her athletic attire. He found himself smiling at her slight scowl. Rolling down the window, he pulled up alongside her.

"Need a ride?" He wagged his eyebrows with teasing finesse.

She glanced to the side, a small smirk at her reluctant mouth.

_Bash_.

She looked at the handle on the door. Francis wouldn't like it- jealous as he was. But, he shouldn't have left her to walk home by herself. And Bash had a girlfriend now and really they were just friends and it was_ such_ a long walk.

"Sure."

**a/n: okay. so there will be more of this. just needed to get the set up a-goin' ;) ideas, suggestions, compliments? all are welcome. please review!**

**(and, as a side note, i felt weird making mary a cheerleader. but i'm using it as a part of the popularity hierarchy or whatever) **


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